The 52nd Annual Hunger Games
by xRmforeverx
Summary: Willow Grove is your average girl from district 7, smart, fun, strong.. NOT! What happens when she gets entered into a tournament that could end her life? Rated T because it's the Hunger Games. My O.C.s


So I originally wrote this under peer pressure, but I kind of got into it. Here's chapter one. :)

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I smacked my ax against the tree, making it drop to the ground immediately. I wiped the beads of sweat off of my forehead. My plaid shirt was covered in tree shavings, while the ground next to me was covered in logs. My older brother, Linden, was still cutting down the trees. I couldn't concentrate, though. Not on the day of the reaping. I set my ax beside the pile of wood. "What's the problem?" my brother asked, his green eyes shining like an emerald. "N-nothing," I lied, rubbing my hands on my jeans. Honestly, I didn't feel too good. I never felt good this time of year, it was the Hunger Games. Last year, my best friend, Tulip, got sent to the games, but didn't come back. It was rare for one of the younger tributes, especially from my district, District 7, to win, anyways, so I didn't expect it. This year, my name was entered three times, me being fourteen, but my brother, who was eighteen, was entered thirty-four times. He took tesserae. It was a bet he and his friends had made, a gamble.

"Willow, don't lie to me, what's wrong? Is it the reaping?" he asked, setting down his ax. The reaping, that dreaded day, the day that everyone hates, yet still "celebrates." The day where two children from each district, ages twelve to eighteen, tributes, were picked at random to go kill each-other in a bloody battle that everyone was forced to watch. Only one survived. It was to show everyone that the Capitol still overruled us, that they could still take us down like they did to District 13. I quickly said a simple, "no," and left for home, leaving my loot, and even my ax behind.

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When I got home, I washed the basket full of apples that was on our table. What? You can't live in a lumber district without apple trees. I held the red fruit in my hands, the water feeling good on my olive-toned skin. I put the apples back into the basket, leaving a note for my mother, telling her that they'd been washed. My mother was a paper-maker, while my father was a lumber-jack, just like, basically, everyone in District 7. I went upstairs to find my mother in an old gown of hers. "Happy Hunger Games, Willow," she said wrapping me into a sad hug. I gave her a half-smile, returning the hug. "I've laid out an outfit for you, honey-locust," she said, rocking us back and forth. I pulled away from the hug, giving her an odd look. She knew that I didn't want to go. But, I knew that I had to, you had to be deathly ill NOT to show up at the reaping. And trust me, they check. I walked into the bathroom to get changed.

I came out of the room, dressed in a forest green dress, one that went down to my knees and had sleeves that went to my elbows. It had tree designs embroiled at the bottom. I had put my dark brown hair into a braid, one that hung over my shoulders and went down to my thighs. My mother looked over to me, a curious look in her eyes, "Where's your brother?" I gaped, he hadn't come home yet? "H-he was in the woods, w-why?" I asked, feeling guilty, but somehow scared. I paced around, thinking about where he could be, being to busy to notice the door open and an eighteen year old boy, with dark brown hair and green eyes, slip through. I stopped when I walked into the boy, being my brother. He looked weirded out, in my opinion. I hugged him, "You're okay! I thought you'd been captured and turned into an Avox!" He stared at me, "Why would I've been turned into an Avox?" "Y-you're y-you're you!" I said, trying to sound like I had a fair argument.

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When we got to the center of the district, we had to separate. I had to go with all of the other fourteen year old girls, who probably were as likely of getting picked as I was, but were sill freaking out. I stood next to Rowan Kousa, a girl from my class. We didn't talk much, but we appreciated each other's presence. She had blue eyes and red hair, her pale skin-tone made her look like she had painted her whole body, hair and all. Her curly hair went down to her chin.

We all stopped talking when the escort, Elizabeth Rowe, started talking. She told this speech that they told every year, addressing us about the rules to the games.

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After the speech, they showed us a video of how the Capitol overruled the thirteenth district, and showing clips of previous games. After the video was over, Elizabeth walked over to the jars, her blue curls bouncing up and down. "Now who shall go first? Oh, pardon my manners, it's ladies first, isn't it?" She stuck her orange gloved hand into the glass bowl, picking out a slip of paper. She cleared her throat as she read my worst nightmare aloud, "Willow Grove."

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A.N. How was it? Was it okay? I hope so. I'll update soon. Please review!


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